


Angels Are Jerks

by spacesharks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Hunter!Cas, M/M, Supernatural Reverseverse, angel!dean, reverse!verse, reverseverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacesharks/pseuds/spacesharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes, dean pulls some sort of joke. most of the time, it's only funny to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Are Jerks

Out of all the angels in Heaven, Castiel has to get stuck with Dean.

Their first meeting wasn’t really what he had been expecting- the angel finding it appropriate to introduce himself to a blaring ACDC album. The hunter could say he had never been more confused, let alone skeptical, in his life. But he had proven he was really an angel, when Castiel had forced him to, and despite all the griping he did, he had to say he was pretty convinced that Dean was an angel. And a glutton, and a whoremonger, and a drunk.

He also was convinced Dean was incredibly annoying.

Castiel blames it on his own curiosity. He had read the scriptures, he followed them, because what else could he do in this damned profession but cling to frail hope that somewhere there was some grander, kinder power? So he had asked Dean which choir he belonged to, and after another handful of cryptic jokes, the angel had eventually fessed up that he was one of the Cherubim.

He hadn’t really been able to help the small laugh he let out at the answer. But Dean didn’t take very kindly to it, knowing what he must’ve been thinking of, because he had flown off all ruffled pretty soon after.

Castiel sees now that the question was a mistake.

He’s bent over his research, grumbling and rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Dean shows up on the table naked as the day his vessel was born.

Castiel lets out what is probably the most embarrassing scream in his life.

And Dean, the _bastard_ , just grins when he stumbles backwards and falls onto the floor. “Hey, Cas.” He greets voice so smug Castiel briefly considers breaking his hand in the attempt to punch him square in his nose.

“What in the- Dean, why are you _naked_?!” Castiel demands, covering his eyes from the angel’s bare body before he can glimpse at a little too much. He just hears Dean laugh in response, way too amused with himself.

“What? You’re the one with the whole naked baby picture in your mind. Just thought I’d follow up in full Cherub uniform.” Dean drawls and the hunter can very much hear the obnoxious grin in his tone. He parts his fingers slightly to peak, just in time to see Dean rest his chin in the heel of his palm and swing his legs over the table. In which Castiel promptly draws his fingers together again, just in time to hear the angel laugh a second time.

This is getting ridiculous.

“Dean, I know what the Cherubim are actually for.” He says, exasperated beyond all belief. “I happen to know they aren’t naked infants.” He groans slightly, because why, why is this his life? He’s tried to stay devout, why is God punishing him like this? “I’m sorry that I laughed the other day.” He admits after a stiff sort of silence, in which Castiel doesn’t move because he’s sure Dean in still naked. “Now could you please put on some clothing?”

There’s another short pause of silence of afterwards, in which he hears the angel shifting around. “Alright, apology accepted,” Dean relents, grin still in his tone, but still somewhat softer. He hears the rustling of wings, and then a hand and the sleeve of a canvas jacket. Castiel removes his fingers and is relieved to see Dean fully clothed again, who gives him an arch of his brow and a much more toned down smile. Though still sort of soft, still sort of fond, and Castiel forces his heart back down before it can even think to scramble into his throat.

“Happy now?” The angel asks.

“Yes,” The hunter answers, clearing his throat and climbing back into his chair. Bent over his work again, nice and awake. “Thank you.”


End file.
